When I'm Gone
by LeaO'Neill
Summary: The Farmington cops search for gun toting racists on a mission...Chap 2 now up
1. Default Chapter

When I'm Gone  
(The Characters of The Shield do not belong to me. They are property of FX Network and their creators. )  
Detectives Claudette Wyms and Holland "Dutch" Wagenbaugh started their day off with a bang. Literally.  
  
The two police detectives for Farmington Division were getting coffee from a curbside vendor, who had terrific Columbian coffee and croissants that weren't too bad, when they heard the three pops. It sounded like fireworks or a car backfiring, but to the trained ears, they were identified as gunshots.  
  
It wasn't close enough to make them dive for cover, but Dutch did slosh coffee on his shoes.  
  
"It's a little early in the day, isn't it?" he complained, as they climbed in the unmarked police issue sedan to cruise around the block where the shots seemed to have come from.  
  
"Never to early for murder or mayhem," Claudette said wearily.  
  
They drove around, eyes searching for anything out of place, either someone running, someone down, someone looking for a cop. When they saw no storeowners running out of their business, nor fleeing gunmen, Claudette pulled to a stop in front of Chavez Park, which was the only other place the shots could have come from. They got out, weapons drawn, but held at their sides.  
  
The park was empty so early in the day. The children's play area vacant. They wandered deeper into the large grassy oasis in the concrete and steel jungle.  
  
"Look," Claudette pointed. In the thick trees, one stood out further back in the wooded area.  
  
Dutch glanced around for any people among the trees, but saw nothing. He walked closer to the tree. It was riddled with bullet holes; not just the three shots they'd heard a few minutes ago.  
  
"I'm no tree hugger, but it didn't seem to deserve all this," Dutch remarked. He examined the bullet holes, both old and new. ". 38 caliber, .45, .22; this sure is someone's favorite target." Dutch walked around the tree. He found a carving on the other side.  
  
"Yeah, and only a couple hundred feet away from making some kid into a target," Claudette said, shaking her head. The playground was just a short way from this 'shooting tree'.  
  
"Well, whoever's been shooting out here must come here a lot, and was just here a little while ago." He walked around the trees. He found some numbers and letters carved into the tree: 420HTRZ. He wrote it down. It could be a gang signature, but he'd never seen it before.  
  
"Lets poke around the neighborhood awhile. I don't want to come back here for a body later."  
* * * *  
Officers Julien Lowe and Danielle "Danny" Sofer were patrolling not far from Chavez Park when they got a call. Edward Ortiz Middle School- the principal had confiscated a gun from a 13-year-old student.  
  
"Man, when I was 13 I was still playing with Barbie's," Danny said. "I couldn't even imagine someone bringing a gun to school."  
  
Julien shook his head. "Where I went to school, it was the norm, not the exception. The principal probably had more guns and knives than a pawn shop."  
  
They pulled up at the school and went inside.  
  
Principal Zach Davis met them in the hall.  
  
"The kid is Mark Kosac, a seventh grader. He was showing to a friend. He says it's not his, that he was just holding it for someone, but he won't tell us who. I figured I'd let you handle that."  
  
Danny and Julien went into the private office where the youth was sitting, looking nervous.  
  
"Mark, I'm officer Sofer, this is Officer Lowe."  
  
He looked up and his pulse raced.  
  
"I didn't do nothin' with the gun. I wasn't gonna use it," the kid immediately began.  
  
"That's not the point. You had it at school. That's a crime," Julien told the boy.  
  
"The principal says you were holding it for someone. Is that right?"  
  
The boy nodded, lowering his eyes.  
  
"If you tell us who gave it to you, maybe we can work something out so you don't have to go downtown with us," Danny told him.  
  
The kid didn't know whether to be more scared of going to jail or being a rat. Danny knew that.  
  
"Look, Mark, if you tell us now, we won't tell who ever it is that you told us."  
  
"But I promised," he insisted.  
  
"Well, then I guess you'll have to go down to the police station and we'll have to call your parents to pick you up there," Danny shrugged.  
  
That didn't sound appealing at all. "His name is Pete. We ride the bus together. He's in high school. He wanted me to keep it today because the police and the dogs were going to be at the high school. He wants it back this afternoon."  
  
"Pete have a last name?"  
  
Mark shrugged. "I don't really know him that well."  
  
"Can you tell us where he lives?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. What about when he wants it back this afternoon?"  
  
"Well, you won't be going home on the bus. I think your parents will be waiting for you."  
  
Mark paled. "But I'm not going to jail, right?"  
  
Danny gave the scared kid a little smile. "No, not this time Mark." Then more sternly, "But if we have to talk to you again, it won't be this easy. And next time someone asks you to hold something for them, just say no, okay?"  
  
Mark nodded.  
Danny and Julien got a roster from the principal for Edward Ortiz High, the adjoining high school and then tracked down the bus route Mark Kosac took. They quickly found out 'Pete' was Peter Riggs, a 16 year old.  
  
"Okay, lets go have a talk with this one," Danny said, as they drove from the mid school the few blocks to the high school office.  
* * * * *  
Vic Mackey was more than surprised to receive a call on his cell phone from Dutch. He and Shane were watching a house where a major player in the drug trade was supposed to be staying. So far they'd come up with squat.  
  
"Hey, Dutchboy, what's happening?"  
  
Shane gave Vic a look with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"Um, listen, Vic, I need some information. Claudette didn't exactly want me to call you but."  
  
"But you need the info and you know to call Dad. Look, what Claudette doesn't know won't hurt her. What can I do you for?"  
  
Dutch cleared his throat. He was making the call while his partner was in a business asking questions.  
  
"I found a tag on a tree in Chavez Park." He read out the numbers and letters to Vic. "Is that a gang signature?"  
  
Vic wrote what Dutch said on a paper. He showed it to Shane.  
  
Shane shrugged.  
  
"Nah, I never heard of any 420 hitters," Vic said.  
  
"Might be connected to the Brotherhood," Shane suggested.  
  
"What's that?" Dutch asked.  
  
"Shane thinks it might be related to the Arians."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
"Well, 4/20, you know, it's Hitler's birthday."  
  
"Oh, yeah," Dutch tried to sound as if he'd known that.  
  
"It's a date that the Arians sometimes use. Maybe for a hit, could be anything."  
  
"So maybe the 420 Hitters is an organized group. Possibly connected to the Arian Brotherhood."  
  
"It's possible," Vic told him.  
  
"Okay, well, thanks. And uh, if you see Claudette."  
  
"Yeah, I get it. Mum's the word." He disconnected.  
  
"What'd old Dutchboy want?" Shane asked, looking through binoculars at the still peaceful house.  
  
"Some kind of tag he found on a tree over in Chavez Park. Any movement?"  
  
"Nah. I think this is a dead end. We've been sitting on this place for two days. All I've seen is some really skanky bitches and an ugly dog."  
  
Vic chuckled. "There's a difference?" he wisecracked.  
* * * * *  
Detective Stefanie Knight was sitting in her doctor's office. Ever since she'd gotten off the painkillers she'd been addicted to, she'd been having a lot of pain from her old gunshot wounds and the damage they'd caused in her back. And not to mention, lately she'd just been so tired all the time, she was starting to think she was anemic or something.  
  
She'd changed doctors the same time she'd gotten off pills. Her old doctor had been glad to keep her on the narcotics for five years. She'd found a new physician, a woman, who'd immediately sent her to physical therapy and found other ways to help her deal with the pain. But some days it wasn't enough.  
Dr Kennedy had done some routine blood work and Stevie was waiting for the results. She always felt uncomfortable sitting in the exam room with all the bright lights shining on her.  
  
Dr Kennedy came back into the room. She was a middle-aged woman with short red hair. She gave Stevie a reassuring smile. "We'll get you out of here shortly," she said, knowing Stefanie was not at home here.  
  
"Well, am I gonna live?" Stevie asked.  
  
"Most defiantly. Your were right on the money about being a little anemic. Your iron is really low."  
  
"Great, so vitamins can fix that right?"  
  
Dr Kennedy nodded. "Have you had any other symptoms, nausea, vomiting, anything like that?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it, sometimes when my back pain is really bad, I have been getting a little nauseous."  
  
"Well, to tell you the truth, something else showed up on your blood tests."  
  
"What?"  
  
"From the HCG levels, you're pregnant."  
  
Stevie blinked twice. "What?"  
  
Dr Kennedy shrugged. "The levels are in the positive pregnancy range. I'm assuming that there is a possibility you could be pregnant. You are sexually active?"  
  
Stevie, still in shock, was numb. "Well, yeah, but.Look, Dr Fenn said that because of the trauma from the gunshot exit wounds, I would probably never be able to conceive."  
  
"Well, we'll know a little more with a physical exam."  
  
While Stevie numbly disrobed and put on the paper gown in the changing room, her heart raced.  
  
"So I'm assuming this is unplanned," Dr Kennedy continued from the adjoining exam room.  
  
"To say the least," Stevie confirmed.  
  
"Well, would your boyfriend be supportive, you think?"  
  
Stevie gave a slight hint of a bitter laugh. "I don't have a boyfriend." She thought of Shane. In all the time they'd been spending together, she still didn't consider him a boyfriend any more than he considered her a girlfriend. They were friends. They were friends who occasionally shared a bed. Friends who relieved stress and found comfort together. Nothing more. This was not a good thing.  
  
"In your file it says your periods aren't regular. Since the shooting?"  
  
Stevie came back into the room. "Yeah. That's why I never even gave it a thought when I skipped. I never know."  
  
Within a few minutes into the exam, Dr Kennedy was able to positively confirm.  
  
"You're defiantly pregnant. I'd say about 14 to 16 weeks."  
  
Stevie lay quietly on the table.  
  
Only the doctor snapping off her gloves, as she was finished, brought Stevie back. She sat up.  
  
"That's like 4 months," she finally said.  
  
Dr Kennedy nodded. "I'll order an ultrasound to confirm the dates," she said, jotting notes on Stevie's chart. She looked up and saw the look on Stevie's face. She laid a kind hand on the younger woman's.  
  
"There are alternatives," she said softly.  
  
Stevie just nodded, her mind not even comprehending.  
  
"I'll give you some literature if you'd like."  
  
Stevie just nodded.  
  
She left the doctor's office a little later, in her purse a prescription for iron pills and vitamins, a card for another appointment, an order for the ultrasound, and pamphlets on abortion and adoption.  
* * * *  
Claudette had come up empty in the local businesses around Chavez Park. Several shop owners had of course confessed to hearing shots over the past few days, but like frightened mice, they kept to themselves and ignored it, hoping it would go away.  
  
When she returned to the car, Dutch had tried to think of something other than the fact he'd called Vic Mackey. He knew how she felt about the other cop. He didn't always approve of the way Mackey operated either, but he knew Vic was a good cop, and always had useful information. He'd never known Mackey to be anything other than a co- worker, but he knew Claudette and Vic had some issues that he'd rather not get involved in.  
  
"I called a guy in the gang task force," he told her. "He thinks the 420 Hitters have something to do with the Arian Brotherhood."  
  
Claudette nodded. "That sounds reasonable." She looked at her watch. "Today's April 18. Could there be something planned for April 20?"  
  
Dutch nodded. "That's what my guy thought too."  
  
"Well, we'd better get moving on this."  
  
"You get anything from the shop owners?"  
  
"A lot of them report hearing gun fire over the past few days, but they don't remember seeing anything."  
  
"Scared?"  
  
Claudette nodded, pulling away from the curb. "More than likely. The vendors are starting to set up in the park. Lets go talk to them, maybe at least find out if there's any familiar faces they remember."  
* * * *  
Danny and Julien struck out trying to talk to Peter. They found out from the teachers he'd shown up for homeroom and then somehow gotten off school grounds between science and American History.  
  
The two cops split up, going to talk to several of Pete's teachers to find out who he hung out with and if any of his other friends were absent today. When they met back up, they both had two consistent names: David Hall and Jeff Weber. Both had also shown up for homeroom and both were now nowhere to be found.  
  
"So all three of them are probably together," Danny surmised.  
  
"I got all three addresses from the principal. We can follow up."  
  
"Yeah, lets try the homes. If these kids had one gun, chances are they've got more."  
* * * *  
  
When Vic and Shane got back to the Barn, they found someone was waiting for them. A large man wearing a leather jacket, with long hair and old jeans waited in the waiting area by the desk sergeant.  
  
Vic recognized him immediately.  
  
"Hey, Skeeter, that you under all that hair?"  
  
The 6 foot 5 hulk stood up with a grin for Vic.  
  
"Yeah, hi Mackey," he said, taking his greasy oil stained baseball cap off and offering a hand to Vic.  
  
"What are you doin' down here? I thought after you'd got out, you'd never want to see the inside of a police department again."  
  
"Well, I think I might need some help."  
  
Vic raised an eyebrow. "Come on back." He nodded to the desk sergeant who buzzed them through. They went to the private office Vic and the Strike Team used.  
  
The man called Skeeter, who's real name was Roy Hall, took a seat at the table, Vic and Shane opposite him.  
  
"What's up that'd make you come all the way down here?" Vic asked.  
  
Skeeter had been involved in several bank robberies about ten years ago and Vic had arrested him, sending him to prison for seven years. But Skeeter had always respected Vic and they'd struck up some kind of friendship during the course of the arrest and trial. Skeeter had always been respectful and gave Vic credit for being able to bust him.  
  
"It's my kid, man. David."  
  
"Yeah, what's he now, about 16?"  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Yeah, and a hell'uva lot more trouble than I was at that age."  
  
"I doubt it, but okay."  
  
"Look, since I got out, I been tryin' to do right for my boy. I been working steady at the bike shop, makin' sure he's got things he needs. His ma' split while I was in the joint. He's been real pissed at me cause of that. "Anyway, lately, he's hooked up with these guys. I'm not sure what they're into, but I've been finding a lot of stuff that I know he shouldn't be into."  
  
"Stuff like what?"  
  
"Racist stuff, letters, magazines, talking about Nazi shit. I found some shells in his room too. I don't know where he got a gun, if he's got one. Hell, I get caught with a gun in my house and I'm back in the joint, you know that."  
  
Vic nodded.  
  
"You ever heard him talk about or seen written 4-20 HRTZ or hitters?"  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Yeah, they've got it on some tee shirts they painted themselves. And Davy's got it carved on his desk in his room. I don't know what it means. I thought maybe him and those other two were starting some kind of gang or something.  
  
"Last couple of days I know he'd been ditching school, being real secretive like. I think something's up, be he won't talk. And he ain't even been home more than maybe a couple of hours. He snuck out this morning before I even got up. I ain't seen him. I called school and they said he showed up this morning, but then took off. Him and his buddies."  
  
"Who are these friends, you know 'em?"  
  
"Pete and Jeff. Pete was a pretty okay kid, but that Jeff, he always seemed messed up."  
  
"Messed up how? Drugs?"  
  
Skeeter shrugged. "Maybe. That and he was always coming over all beat up, clothes ragged, all that. An he's got a big one o' them swastika tattoos on his chest. Nah, I never liked him much."  
  
Shane and Vic looked at each other.  
  
"These kids hang out at Chavez Park maybe?"  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Could be. It's right near where that Jeff lives."  
  
Vic shrugged, "Well, we'll hit the streets, see if we can't pick 'em up. What'da you want me to do with your kid? You want him locked up for a day or so? Sometimes it does some good."  
  
Skeeter nodded. "Shit, Vic, last thing I wanted was for my kid to end up like me."  
  
"Maybe it's not too late. We'll do what we can," Vic promised the big man.  
  
Skeeter stood up and shook hands with Vic and then Shane. "I sure appreciate this," he told them.  
  
"I'll give you a call if we turn up your kid. You at the bike shop?" Vic knew Skeeter was a mechanic for a Harley Davidson motorcycle shop downtown.  
  
Skeeter nodded.  
  
"Thanks," he said again, and left the office.  
  
"Think maybe his kids mixed up in whatever Dutch is working on?" Shane asked.  
  
"Sounds like a good place to start."  
  
* * * *  
Dutch and Claudette talked to several of the Park vendors who spent much of their day in the park selling everything from soda to hotdogs and snow cones. There seemed to be a common theme among the vendors: three teenage white boys who hung out in the park and sometimes bought food or beverages from the vendors. Claudette and Dutch thought these might be their 'tree shooters', at the least. At the most gun toting kids who were a danger to themselves or someone else.  
* * * *  
  
Danny and Julien had no luck at either David Hall or Pete Riggs' homes. Both boys lived in run of the mill average homes. David's might have been a bit more run down than Pete's but still, just average working collar homes in decent neighborhoods.  
  
They had only one more lead to check out, then it was going to have to be back to patrol and hope that the delinquent boys didn't find some other kind of trouble to get themselves into.  
  
They drove to the home of the third kid, Jeff Weber. He lived in a trailer park in a run down area of Farmington. The park was mixed race, mostly white and Hispanic. This wasn't a black neighborhood by any stretch of the imagination. Julien noticed several racial slurs painted graffiti style on the tin sheet metal fencing.  
  
They located the Weber's trailer. The file from the high school said Jeff and his father lived alone. Danny parked the squad car out front and radioed in where she and Julien were.  
"This Unit 10-20, 1436 Luna Drive. Possible armed suspect."  
  
They went to the door of the trailer and knocked. "Police department," Danny called.  
  
The door was opened by a disheveled man wearing a rages tee shirt and faded jeans. He had long hair and about three days worth of a beard. He smelled of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke.  
  
"What'da you want?" he bellowed.  
  
"Are you Mr Weber, father of Jeff Weber?" Danny asked.  
  
"What the hell's that little shit done now?" the older man asked, slurring his words.  
  
"Well, we think he might be with some other boys, ditching school, among other things. We just want to ask him some questions."  
  
The older man began to laugh. "Is that all? Well, you come back when you got the little bastard locked up or something. Get the fuck off my Astroturf." He laughed maniacally,.  
  
Danny and Julien looked at one another.  
  
"And take that fuckin' lawn jockey with you," he gestured at Julien.  
  
"Sir, that's really not called for. So Jeff isn't here?"  
  
"I told you no, you damn monkey lover."  
  
Danny was starting to get hot. She really wanted this guy to step off his porch and take a swing or something. There wasn't anything more she'd like to do than thrown him on the ground and snap cuffs on him.  
  
Julien, who'd put up with racism all his life, wasn't as affected as she was. He gestured to her that they should go.  
  
"Get on!" the man yelled, still laughing, going back inside the rancid smelling trailer.  
  
"What an asshole," Danny muttered as they went back to the squad car.  
  
"The world's full of them," Julien told her.  
  
"Yeah, but how do they live?"  
  
"They'll be judged someday," he said quietly.  
  
Danny didn't go in much for his religion stuff. She thought people like Weber should be judged in the here and now, not the by and by.  
  
"Well, so much for catching up with the gun toting ditchers," she said.  
  
"Maybe we'll spot something on patrol."  
  
Danny radioed in that they were 10-11 (on duty) patrolling 17th street area.  
* * * * *  
Vic and Shane had a few more resources when it came to finding someone on the street. Near Chavez Park, they found an older Hispanic man selling Churros and Comic books; he was a snitch the Strike team used regularly to keep up on who did what in the neighborhood.  
  
"Hey Chico, que pasa?" Vic greeted.  
  
The partially lame older man gave Vic a smile, showing more than a few missing teeth. "Buenos dias, Senor Mackey. What can I get for you?"  
  
"Lemme have a couple of Churros and some information."  
  
The old man handed Vic two of the cinnamon and sugar dipped bread sticks.  
  
"I'm looking for three white boys. About 16. Probably shaking down vendors, maybe shoplifting from the stores, hanging out in the park. Might be shooting somewhere in the back."  
  
The old man nodded. "Si I see your boys. Come to the Park early, before too many peoples. They shoot. I hear the shots."  
  
"They been around today?"  
  
He nodded again. "Early."  
  
"Any idea where else they hang out?"  
  
"Si. I hear they do mas malice in the old Cemetery," he crossed himself then.  
  
Vic paid for the food, giving the man a hundred for the information.  
  
"Thanks Chico. Keep the change."  
  
"Muchas gracias Senior Mackey."  
  
"That old cemetery isn't even used anymore, is it?" Shane asked.  
  
Vic shook his head as he bit into the sugary bread while they walked to the truck. He offered one to Shane.  
  
"You know I hate that sugary shit," Shane reminded him.  
  
Vic shrugged. "More for me."  
* * * * *  
Vic and Shane found the old unused drive that went up to the Cemetery. They parked the Durango and hopped the wrought iron fence that surrounded the old graveyard.  
  
"Man, this place gives me the creeps," Shane said, looking around at all the old headstones and crypts.  
  
Vic shrugged. "We're all gonna end up in one of these someday."  
  
Shane shook his head. "Not me. I'm getting cremated."  
  
"Oh yeah, that's much better. Get your old ass fried so your poor old grieving widow can set you up on top of the TV where you'll be subjected to reruns of Jeopardy for the rest of eternity."  
  
Shane didn't appreciate Vic's humor. "Yeah, and I suppose you've got a plot all picked out?"  
  
"Actually, yeah. My old man didn't have much in life, but he sure as hell had a great final resting place. Plenty of room up there for me; mountains, trees, a view of the lake."  
  
Shane didn't know much about Mackey's family, even as long as they'd been together as partners, but Vic didn't seem like he was going to elaborate further.  
  
They came across some shell casings scattered on the ground. Vic picked out the target, a tree some fifty yards away.  
  
Shane knelt to examine the casings. "They've got more than one gun. .38, .45, .22, a regular potpourri of brass down here."  
  
Vic looked around a bit more. When he got closer to an old crypt, his sense of smell led him on. He detected the coppery scent of blood. Inside the cement mausoleum was where they discovered the body. Shane went to the corpse, laying face down on the concrete floor of the violated crypt. A pool of blood was coagulating under the body of a teenage boy. Shane tried not to disturb anything as he first felt uselessly for a pulse, knowing he would not find one. The body was cool to the touch, but not cold.  
  
"He's probably only been dead a few hours," Shane surmised.  
  
"I wonder which one of our junior Nazi's this is. Check for ID."  
  
Shane fished a wallet out of the boy's back pocket.  
  
"Shit," he said, looking at the student ID. He handed it to Vic.  
  
It was David Hall.  
"Damn," Vic said, staring at the ID, then the body of the teen, who'd been shot in the back and then the back of the head.  
  
Shane stood up.  
  
Vic had already turned and left. Shane caught up with him half way back to the Durango.  
  
As Vic used the radio to call in the crime, Dutch and Claudette pulled up in their department issue Ford.  
  
"What are you two doing here?" Claudette asked with a sour ring to her tone.  
  
"Looking for a kid," Shane said.  
  
"Find anything?" Dutch asked.  
  
"Yeah. His body."  
After coming to the conclusion that they were all working the same case based on different reasons, Claudette reluctantly shared information with Vic and Shane. In return, Shane explained about David Hall's father coming to them for help.  
  
While the crime scene investigators took over the scene, Dutch took careful notes.  
"Well, we better round up the other two pretty quick," he surmised. "They're either suspects or targets."  
*********************************************************************** *********************************************************************** **************************** 


	2. Chapter Two

(LATER THAT NIGHT)  
Shane had gotten Stevie's message on his cell to come over after work, that it was urgent.  
Stevie was at home, all the lights off, the stereo up, blasting mind- numbing rock. She'd changed into faded jeans with both knees ripped out and a tank top. She had collapsed on her couch and not moved.  
.. There's another world inside of me that you may never see.  
  
.There's secrets in this life I cannot hide.  
  
..Somewhere in this darkness there's a light I cannot find.  
  
.Maybe it's too far away.  
  
.Or maybe I'm just blind.  
  
.Maybe I'm just blind.  
  
.So hold me when I'm here, love me when I'm gone  
  
.Hold me when I'm scared love me when I'm gone  
  
.Everything I am and everything u need  
  
.Causes me to be the one you wanted me to be  
  
.I'll never let you down even if I could .  
  
.Give up everything if only for your good.  
  
.So hold me when I'm here, love me when I'm wrong.  
  
..Hold me when I'm scared, I won't always be there.  
  
..So love me when I'm gone.  
  
.Love me when I'm gone.  
Shane used his key to get in, hearing the loud music. He noticed the darkness and flipped on the lamp on the table by the door. He saw Stevie on the couch. She looked drunk, or worse. He was immediately reminded of how hard she struggled to stay off pills.  
  
He took long strides to the stereo and turned it down. Then he went to her, sitting down on the coffee table in front of her. Her eyes followed him but she hadn't spoken.  
  
"You okay?" he asked, knowing she wasn't, knowing something was wrong.  
  
"No," she said quietly.  
  
"You're kinda scaring me. What's up?" he was in fact nervous, his eyes darting back and forth.  
  
"I had a doctor's appointment today."  
  
When she didn't continue, Shane was forced to prod. "And?"  
  
"I'm pregnant." Her voice was barely audibly, but Shane heard loud and clear.  
  
He felt like a two-ton weight had been dropped on his shoulders. His mouth dropped open a little. "Oh," he managed, but even that came out a little muddled.  
  
She read the expression on his face. "I didn't think I could have babies. That's what they told me after the shooting. That's why I wasn't worried when we weren't exactly.careful."  
  
Shane wasn't really sure what to say. In fact, in his wildest dreams he'd never pictured having to say anything like this to Stevie, his pal since third grade, the girl he'd treated like a sister all through school, the woman he'd counted on to be there for him.the one friend he hoped would have lots of babies..with someone else.  
  
"I'm sorry," she finally said, seeing that he was completely lost for words.  
  
Stevie got off the couch then. "I'm gonna make coffee. If you want to stay and talk, fine. If you don't, if you want to leave, I'll understand."  
  
She went to the kitchen. Shane didn't move. He knew he was going to have to snap out of this soon and tell her something.anything. He had no idea how he was supposed to feel. He wasn't thrilled, of course. This totally blindsided him. But he didn't want to hurt Stevie. God, he'd never wanted to hurt her.  
  
The song on the stereo changed then. Melancholy piano notes.  
  
.even though the world is bleeding, I'm feeling just fine.  
we were always free to chose never free enough to find.  
  
I wish something would break..cause we're runnin out of time.  
.I am overcome.  
  
.I am overcome.  
  
.Holding water in my lungs.  
  
.I am overcome.  
He really felt like hitting something right then, but controlled himself. He was angry with himself though, not her. Never her.  
  
Okay, he'd find out what she thought about this unexpected development, and go from there. Play off her lead, Shane, he told himself. Just don't fuck it up. Deal with it somehow. If you play, eventually you're gonna pay.  
.I am overcome. .I an overcome. .Holding water in my lungs.  
.So drive me out, out to that open field. turn the ignition off..  
He gave himself this pep talk before getting off the table, unsure if his legs would hold him. When they did, he walked into the kitchen, his boots sounding in his head like they were hitting on steel.  
  
He found her there, standing with her back to him, staring out the window, that beautiful long blond hair hanging loose around her shoulders.  
.I am overcome.  
He went to her, laying a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Stevie.I'm not sure what to say."  
  
She turned, tears falling from her eyes. "I'm not either."  
  
He wiped her eyes with his thumb. He remembered doing that so many years ago once after her parents divorced, once much later after a senior had broken her heart.  
  
"How far are you?"  
  
"About 4 months," she read his expression. "It's too late for an abortion. At least for me it is. Maybe in the first couple of weeks, but," she shook her head.  
  
"It's okay. You don't have'ta explain. I understand." He took a breath and let it out. "Okay, well.then." He pretended like he knew what he was going to say next, but he didn't have a clue.  
  
"So, you want to keep the baby?"  
  
She shrugged. "Shane, can you honestly tell me you could look at a person you helped create, a part of you, and give them away?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Well, I don't think I could." She turned again, finishing putting water in the coffee pot.  
  
After the coffee was done, and it was a long five minutes of silence, they sat at the kitchen table.  
  
"I'm not asking anything of you Shane, you know I'm not like that. I can do this alone if I have to."  
  
"I'm not a total prick Stevie. I understand that I'm at least half responsible for this. I'll do what it takes."  
  
"I'm not looking for marriage or anything you know? I mean, I'm really not even any good at the whole relationship thing."  
  
"Look, why don't we take this one step at a time, okay? We've got a little while to get used to the idea, right?"  
  
Stevie nodded.  
  
"So, maybe after it sinks in some, we can work something out, okay?"  
  
She nodded again.  
Some time later, Shane decided that it would be best if he left for the night. He needed some time to absorb what was happening. He needed to think.  
  
He drove around for a while, not really heading anywhere in particular. He remembered a bar he and Vic used to hang out, it seemed like an eternity ago. He figured since he'd already driven this far, he might as well go in and have a beer.  
  
He pulled into the parking lot of the older bar and couldn't have been more surprised. Vic's Durango was in the lot.  
  
Shane went inside. The bar wasn't crowded, it was a weeknight and next to all the newer joints, this place wasn't much. The lights were low and the music wasn't loud. He saw Vic's recognizable profile at the bar.  
  
He went up and took the next stool.  
  
Vic merely raised an eyebrow as he nursed his beer.  
  
The bartender, a stocky little guy, came over. "What'll it be?"  
  
Shane ordered a beer.  
  
Vic glanced over. "If I was still married," he gave a slight snort. "I'd ask if Corrine sent you."  
  
Shane shook his head. "I was just driving around. I saw this place and remembered we used to come in here, a long time ago."  
  
Vic nodded. "Yeah. It was a couple of years ago."  
  
Shane got his beer and relished the first long cold drink.  
  
"So how'd you end up here?"  
  
Vic shrugged. "Aw, I still come in every once in awhile. It's quiet. No one knows me around here."  
  
Shane nodded.  
  
"You?" Shane shrugged. "Just thinking too much I guess."  
  
They sat in silence for a while. They'd been friends and partners long enough to be able to do that without the uncomfortable feeling that you might get with someone less familiar.  
  
"I'm loosing my family," Vic finally said after awhile.  
  
"Corrine's serious about this divorce thing?"  
  
Vic shrugged. "She is now. I hurt her, Shane. I guess more than I knew. I guess more than she can forget."  
  
"She can't keep you from seeing your kids."  
  
"It's not the same. Seeing them and being a dad are two different things." He finished his beer and motioned the bartender for another. "It's like every time I see them now, they've slipped a little further away. I mean, Megan's just a baby still. If she doesn't see me for a week or so, it's like she forgets me. And Matty, he's got so much to deal with already, I feel like I'm just adding to his problems when he's got to change from being with his mom to being with me. Cassy, she's just confused. She can barely look at me sometimes. She blames me."  
  
Shane didn't have any answers. But he would listen. Sometimes that's all it took.  
  
"But you're their dad. That's not gonna change just cause of the divorce."  
  
Vic sighed. "It does though. Somehow. It does."  
  
"I don't know much about being a dad," he said. He wondered if he should tell Vic. If it were anyone else in the world, he would have never confessed. But this was Vic. "But I might need to learn. And I can't think of anyone else I'd rather learn from than you." He took another drink from the bottle in front of him. "Stevie's pregnant."  
  
Vic turned a little. He looked at Shane. There was no bullshit in his words.  
  
"Jesus," he finally said.  
  
"She says she'll do it all by herself. That ain't right. I don't want to marry her, but I don't want to leave her hanging either."  
  
"She wants to keep it?"  
  
Shane nodded.  
  
"She ask you what you wanted?"  
  
He shrugged. "No, not really. Shit, I don't want to hurt her. I never meant for that to happen. I guess sometimes I care about her more than I thought."  
  
"You love her?"  
  
"I think so sometimes. I mean, we've been there for each other for a long time. Since we were kids. I want her to be happy, but I never expected it to be with me. I always imagined I'd go to her wedding, be 'Uncle Shane' to her kids.never dad. I'm like a million miles away from being ready for any kind of a commitment, but.I'd take care of her, and the baby, if she wanted me to."  
  
"Than that's all that really matters."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"I don't want a kid that ends up like that kid today. I guess I wonder sometimes where we all go wrong.why we make the choice we do, why it's so hard now."  
  
Vic raised an eyebrow. "It's always been hard. I think people just give up more. When I had to tell Skeeter about his boy, I saw something in him die right then. Take a man that big, done time, done damn near everything, and tell him about finding his boy like we did, and it breaks him.Shit, I always thought I'd have it perfect, perfect family, kids.now," he shrugged. "hell it's breaking me too."  
  
Shane saw for the first time in a long time, what he'd known for a long time: Vic was just human too. And he was hurting. More than he let on to anyone.  
  
They drank another round in silence.  
  
Vic finally stood and threw some money on the bar. "Sorry I didn't have any answers for you," he told Shane.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't either."  
* * * * *  
The next day, April 19, and all points had been placed on Jeff and Pete. Though David Hall had been shot with a .44 caliber handgun, neither of the boy's parents had a registered weapon. They had obviously gotten their toys elsewhere. Jeff Webber's father had been no help; Pete Rigg's mother wasn't much either.  
  
Dutch and Claudette paid Mrs Rigg's a visit early in the morning. When Claudette knocked on the door, Nancy Riggs was on her way out to work.  
  
"Ms Riggs, we really need to speak with you about your son," Claudette told the woman.  
  
"Well, I'm in a real hurry. I'm late for my other job. Pete's not here. He spent the night with his friend Jeff."  
  
"Ma'am," Dutch said then. "One of Pete's other 'friends', David Hall is dead. We have reason to believe your son knows something about that."  
  
The harried red head looked confused. "Well, like I said, he's not here."  
  
"When was the last time you actually saw your son?" Claudette asked.  
  
Nancy Riggs looked liked she'd been insulted, but she wasn't sure. "Well, today's Wednesday, I guess.." She stopped and actually thought about it. "Monday morning. I worked all day and half the night. When I got home, he was asleep in his room. Than I got up early to go to work. He called me last night to tell me he was staying with Jeff."  
  
Nancy Riggs was an obviously over worked, single parent that didn't have much time for her son. It would have been easy for him to get involved with the wrong crowd. Dutch made some notes.  
  
"Does Pete own a gun?" he asked.  
  
The tired mother shook her head. "I don't think so. I've never seen.He couldn't have a gun. I'm sure."  
  
"Well, we really need to find your son. DO you have any idea where he might be, bedside's at Jeff's?"  
  
She shrugged. "Well, no I guess not."  
  
"Would you mind if we looked in his room?"  
  
Another shrug. "UI guess not, but I have to call my boss and tell him I'll be late. Come on."  
  
She went back into the house. "It's down the hall on the left," she pointed, as she went to make her call.  
  
The house was messy, but signs of cleanliness underneath showed. The living room wasn't bad; dishes piled in the sink; laundry piled on the floor in front of the washer; but the cabinets showed signs of recently being dusted.  
  
They went to the teen's room. The door had a huge poster of Kid Rock on the outside. Inside, the light muted by a red and black throw blanket over the window, were also typical teen posters: swimsuit models, rock bands.  
  
Dutch and Claudette searched the less obvious places, like dresser drawers and closets. In the back of the closet, Claudette found an army green tee shirt with 420 HTRZ painted in red on the back.  
  
In the desk, along with the various schoolbooks and papers, Dutch found some literature with titles like "White Power", "The Race Supreme", and "Hitler's Legacy".  
  
"Power reading," Dutch said flatly, as he showed Claudette the books.  
  
* * * * *  
Vic planned a different course. He wanted to shake down gun dealers, guys who sold illegal guns out of the back of their 'legitimate' businesses; guys that might not have thought twice about selling to kids; and gang bangers who wanted a quick disposal of their guns used in crimes.  
  
Ronnie was back from his days off; Lem was still out for the rest of the week, his girlfriend Michelle was being released from the hospital.  
  
In their office, Vic mapped out he day.  
  
"Okay, me and Ronnie are gonna hit the back door dealers, Shane you find out about those shells we sent through ballistics, find out how many like them have turned up in body's besides David Halls. If we can match bullets to bodies, we might be able to triangulate where the guns came from, who got rid of them, and to who."  
  
"We're still keeping on the lookout for the other two kids too right?"  
  
Ronnie asked, having just been caught up on the case this morning.  
  
"Yeah, but we'll let Dutchboy track them. I want the big fish too. I want the dealers, the sleeeze slurping pigs that put those guns in those kids' hands to begin with."  
They left on their respective duties. Shane went down to the crime lab. He'd dated a tech there some time back and she was still 'friendly' enough to let him have info when he needed it, even if it was 'off the record' info. Vic and Ronnie hit the streets they knew so well. They would start with the 'known' gunrunners.  
  
Shane got the information he needed, but he found himself suddenly not in the mood to be as nice to Sherry, the lab tech, as he probably should have.  
  
"So Shane, when are we gonna go out again?" the pretty brunette asked.  
  
She was damn good looking out of her baggy street clothes and long lab coat. And when she put on markup and shed her reading glasses, she was hot. But somehow, he wasn't into the act today. He knew it was because of Stevie.  
  
He shrugged as she went though files in the computer for him.  
  
"Aw, I've been real busy lately."  
  
"Not too busy to hang out with that Vice cop I hear."  
  
"You hear a lot. Am I that hot of a subject around the crime lab?"  
  
"With us single girls. In fact, I hear tell that she might just have you off the market."  
  
"Well, you can't always believe what you hear." He shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Any luck?"  
  
"Oh yeah, sure." She pointed to the screen. "The bullets that killed David Hall came from a .44 caliber German made Glock, 14 round automatic pistol." She clicked and the identifiable shell pulled from Hall's body came into focus on the screen. "The same type of bullets have been pulled from," she hit another key. "Four other victims in the last month. Two drive bys and two armed robberies that turned ugly. Of course without the gun to compare them with, we can't say that the bullets area positive match, but they're all the same type. If you want me to go back further-"  
  
Shane shook his head. "Na. A month is fine. Can you check the locations of the other DB's?"  
  
She nodded, then gave him a pouty smile. "But it'll cost ya."  
  
He sighed. "Fine."  
  
"Say dinner?"  
  
"Yeah, okay. But I'm not sure when. I'll call you?"  
  
She gave him a look. "Yeah, I've heard that before. Fine, whatever." She clicked the keyboard, maybe a little harder than before. "Drive-bys took place down around Holling- 45th street and 52 avenue. Robberies, one at a liquor mart on Jackson and a convenience store on 47th."  
  
"That's all like in a 7 block radius, isn't it?"  
  
Sherrie nodded. "Okay hot shot, I'm through dishing out information for free. When you're 'free' call me and I'll put you back on tab. Until then, I've got zip." She hit the "enter" key and the screen went back to standby.  
  
Shane stood up, gave Sherrie a quick peck on the cheek. "You're terrific," he said, regaining a little of the old Vendrell charm.  
  
It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the lab tech happy.  
  
But now Shane faced another problem: all those crimes were in South Division. He wouldn't be able to pull up as much information as someone working there. Shit, that meant he'd have to go see Stevie. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. But if he didn't and didn't get the information Vic needed, he'd be letting his partner down. No, he had to suck up his own feelings and do his job.  
* * * * *  
Danny and Julien patrolled the area of the Park most of the day. They had all been briefed on the two missing boys, the same they'd been looking for since yesterday, and the murder of the third this morning in shift briefing.  
  
"It seems like it gets worse every day," Danny sighed. "Kids killing kids, this racial bullshit. Sometimes it sure is frustrating."  
  
"Yeah," Julien agreed. "But I feel like we make a difference. Don't you?"  
  
"Sometimes I guess. But lately, it seems like maybe that's not enough. That the little difference we make doesn't make a matchstick in the mountain of shit we have to go through."  
  
"What would you do if you weren't a cop?" Julien then asked.  
  
Danny had to think about that. "I've been doing this job for so long, since I was 21, I guess I'm not sure. Maybe go back to school. Get some kind of a justice degree; maybe see if I could make a bigger difference some other way. What about you?"  
  
Julien shrugged. "Well, I guess I'd probably want to do something where I could help kids, maybe before it was too late for them."  
  
Danny sighed again. "With all this bullshit coming down about Farmington Division, maybe I'd better start thinking about what I'd do."  
  
"Aw, cut it out. I really don't think you have to worry about your job."  
  
"I'm female, white, have a recent shooting on my record, and then all that stuff with Armadillo. I think I have plenty to worry about."  
  
"Well, stuff happens for a reason. You're a good person Danny, and a good cop. People will realize it."  
  
"Maybe not soon enough though." Danny was already depressed now.  
  
She drove slowly down the street. She spotted some movement in the trees ahead in the park. "Hey, it looks like a couple of kids over there," she told Julien. "Lets check it out."  
  
She pulled the cruiser to a stop. She radioed in their position and that they were going on foot to check out some suspicious activity.  
  
Danny and Julien found the opening in the trees, bushes and weeds that looked like a well used path. This was where she'd spotted the two figures minutes ago.  
  
They followed the path and found it led to an old storm drainpipe.  
  
Julien pulled his flashlight off his belt and shown the light inside the pipe, which was large enough for a man to stand bent over in; certainly large enough for a couple of kids to scurry down.  
  
"LAPD!" Danny yelled. "Come out!" her voice echoed weirdly down the corrugated steel.  
  
Julien's light only went a few feet down the pipe and the two cops couldn't see any movement from within.  
  
"I wonder where this thing comes out?" Julien said then, after a moment.  
  
"Well, it's way too dangerous to go in after them, if it was them. It's too dark in there. They could pick us off. Lets try and follow it from up top, maybe we can get a fix on where they are, or went."  
  
Danny and Julien climbed up a weedy, rocky hill and began following, they hoped, what the course of the storm drain would be.  
  
"Look," Julien said, after a few minutes of walking. Up ahead was a concrete wash. The storm drain surely opened into the 40-foot deep now dry arroyo.  
  
Danny and Julien went to the edge of the ditch. Just below them was the opening to the drain, about five feet off the ground floor of the ditch. Below the opening, in the old sand and mud dried there, were many footprints where someone who'd jumped from the pipe would have landed.  
  
"Well, it sure looks like this is where someone's been taking a short cut for a long time," Julien surmised.  
  
"Yeah. Let's get back to the car and find out where this wash might take them."  
  
* * * * *  
Claudette and Dutch went back to Edward Ortiz middle school. They hoped to get some answers from the other students there, or even some of the teachers.  
  
The principal, Mr Davis wanted to be helpful, but in a school with 400 plus students, he had little information to go on. But he pulled all three students' files.  
  
"Such a tragedy," he said, looking over David Hall's file. "He was a really good student, especially in math and science up until a few months ago. His grades started falling.'  
  
"Maybe around the time he started hanging around with the other two," Dutch noted.  
  
Davis nodded. "I can't say the same for the other two. They've been in and out of trouble and getting barely passing grades for the past two years they've been here."  
  
Claudette, while listening to the principal, stared around his office. It was filled with things one might find in a principals office: books, file cabinets, inspirational posters and art, a trophy cabinet. One thing caught her eye. A calendar of events for the year.  
  
Today was April 19. There was a pep rally scheduled for tomorrow, all classes to be dismissed, all students to report to the gym at 9:45. It was to called "Celebrate Your Country."  
  
"Mr Davis," she interrupted. "I see there's a big rally schedule tomorrow."  
  
He looked t the calendar and nodded. "Yes. We're having some speakers come in. What with the war and all, we'd planned to show our support for peace."  
  
"And freedom," Claudette said, her mind working.  
  
The principal nodded. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"I'm just thinking. These kids place a strong meaning on 4/20. There's a big rally on 4/20. A lot of people. Expressing thoughts on freedom. I'm thinking-"  
  
"That it might be the perfect target for some gun toting wanna bes who want to make a statement," Dutch finished.  
  
Claudette nodded.  
  
* * * * *  
Vic and Ronnie canvassed the gun dealers. They'd picked up a lead from one of Vic's CI's that a guy was selling out the back of his tattoo shop and he didn't really care to whom, as long as they fit the profile: white.  
  
Vic and Ronnie walked into the tattoo shop. The walls were lined with pictures; anything one might want permanently embedded in their skin. A burly guy in a leather vest with no shirt underneath stood smoking a cigarette and glancing through a magazine behind the counter. The glass display case held various knives from pockets to Bowie. Another younger wiry man was putting a tat on a guy's left bicep in the tattoo area.  
  
"Lookin for Stanley Cobb," Vic said, going up to the proprietor.  
  
"Yeah?" the guy said, giving Vic and Ronnie the once over, deciding they were the right color to be in his place. Neither of them had their badges displayed.  
  
"You Stanley?"  
  
"Could be. Why?"  
  
"I need to talk some business. You got somewhere private?"  
  
"What kinda business?" he asked, still not sure of the nature of these two.  
  
"The kind that makes you money and gets me what I want."  
  
He shrugged, figuring he could at least hear what these two wanted. He walked into a small office and gestured that they follow.  
  
Vic did, Ronnie stayed close outside the door, keeping an eye on the other guys.  
  
"So?" the big man asked once he and Vic were alone.  
  
"I'm looking for guns. Clean ones. I hear you were the man."  
  
"Don't know what you're taking about," he said.  
  
Vic pulled out a roll of hundreds. "Look, Manny sent me down here. Said you and I could do business. If you're not interested." he put the money away.  
  
Stanley licked his lips. "Okay, okay. Lets just say I might know how to help you out. What would you be interested in?"  
  
"Handguns. Mostly 45s."  
  
"How many?"  
  
Vic shrugged, playing the part. "Maybe 10. Maybe more. But only if they're clean."  
  
Stanley nodded. "Well, say I could find what you wanted. How much would you be thinking it's worth?"  
  
"Ten for ten," Vic offered.  
  
Stanley shook his head. "Hard to come by clean ones. Ten for 20."  
  
"That's a hell of a markup Stan."  
  
Stan shrugged. "It's as good as it gets."  
  
Vic acted like he was debating the offer. "When?" he finally asked.  
  
"I could probably have it all wrapped up by Sunday."  
  
"So, 10 45's for 2o grand?" Vic confirmed.  
  
"Yeah, yeah. You interested or not?"  
  
"Sure am." He pulled his piece. "Interested in putting your ass in my lockup."  
  
Stan raised his hands. Vic cuffed him and searched for any weapons on the big, sweaty man.  
  
"Stan, you're a disgrace to gun dealers," Vic told him, not finding a weapon on the man. "Now lets talk about how you sell guns to kids."  
* * * *  
Shane found Stevie at her desk, typing a report on her computer. She was engrossed and didn't even notice him come up behind her. God, he felt like such a jackass. He felt so out of place around her now. They'd practically grown up in the same house and now he was almost afraid of being within two feet of her. What if she'd meant what she'd said? What if she would do this alone? What if she shut him out? Hell, either way, he was terrified.  
  
"Hey," he said, finally getting the courage to come up beside her.  
  
Stevie turned. She looked great. She was wearing a navy blue skirt and tan short-sleeved blouse. Her jacket was draped over the chair. She wore her badge on a chain around her neck.  
  
"Hi," she said.  
  
"I, uh."  
  
She gave him an old familiar smile. "Shane, lets not do this today, okay?"  
  
He nodded, more than glad to be let off the hook. "Listen, I needed some  
  
info."  
  
"Sure. What's up?"  
  
Shane pulled up a chair. He told her about the case and the guns. He told her what he needed. Stevie turned back to her computer. She kit some keys and almost instantly had his information.  
  
"The drive bys were just that. Probably gang related; the first took out a known LC member. But the second killed a woman going into a bakery for a damn doughnut. No clue who the actual target was, if there was one. No arrests. The robbery was a liquor store, two suspects, took out the owner when he pulled his own gun and took a shot at them as they left with the cash. One was arrested, Cameron Santinito. Weapon was not found. Probably with the other suspect."  
  
"So I've still got crap," Shane sighed.  
  
"Not necessarily. Santinito is working on a plea bargain. He gave us a lot of names to kick around. Two are known for selling weapons. We ran a sting and arrested one of them yesterday. He's still in our cage. You want him?"  
  
Shane nodded. It was worth a try.  
  
Stevie stood to go get the suspect.  
  
"Look, tonight, how about we grab dinner, talk, okay?" Shane offered.  
  
She nodded. "Okay."  
Danny and Julien followed the concrete arroyo for two miles before deciding what it had to do with the juveniles they were after. They couldn't follow right beside the ditch, as it ran behind houses and businesses. Only after a little while did Danny began to see where it might be leading. From behind the chain link fence, across from the arroyo, Danny could plainly see Edward Ortiz Middle School complex. All the youths would have to do is cross the empty lot and then a baseball field and they were at school. Now it all made sense, the kids would sneak out of class, but not leave from the closed campus. They'd found a way through the chain fence, down into the ditch and up to the park.  
  
"Well, if it was them we saw back at the park, they might be back at school," Danny said.  
  
Julien shrugged. "Why would they want to go back to school, knowing we're looking for them?"  
  
Danny thought for a moment, as they made their way back to the street and the patrol car. "Maybe there's something they needed to do at the school." Then a horror hit her and her stomach turned over. "Come on!" she jumped into the car, with Julien right behind her. They had to get to the school.  
Dutch and Claudette figured they had gotten all they could from the school and were getting ready to leave. As they entered the hall from the principal's office, a bell rang and suddenly the hall was flooded with kids. Dutch was overwhelmed with memories, not many of them good, of being the tall awkward kid in high school who everyone ignored or picked on. Claudette glanced at her watch. Lunch time. She moved slowly through the milling teens. She'd lost Dutch somewhere.  
  
Dutch, overcome with his almost claustrophobic feeling and suddenly really needing a drink of water, had lost sight of his partner as he'd gotten pushed and shoved in the meyley of student bodies.  
He moved into an alcove off the main hallway. To either side of him was a restroom. He figured he'd stay here until the next bell, as one was sure to ring in a minute and all the students would be forced to return to a classroom somewhere. It didn't dawn on him that it was the lunch hour.  
"Man, I don't sell to kids," Stanley the tattoo shop owner and gun dealer was telling Vic in the interrogation room at the Barn.  
  
"I've got other people saying different. Saying that if you're pure enough, don't matter what age you are. Got the cash, Stan's the man."  
  
The big guy shook his head. "You got it wrong.all wrong."  
Captain Acevedra observed the interview on the closed circuit TV. He had been briefed that Vic and his team were working on bringing down some gun dealers who'd reportedly been selling to kids, not to mention, they obtained their weapons from illegal sources. That was fine. Keeping that team working on something that might bring some headlines, and not bad ones, was what he wanted and needed.  
Shane and Stevie worked on the robbery suspect, Santinito. He eagerly gave up anyone they wanted him to. He didn't want to spend time in the joint and he figured every name was getting him closer to freedom. Unfortunately he was mistaken, but he didn't need to know that.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, it was Derek. He bought the guns. He always got everything we needed. He buys from some guy named Stanley. But Stanley would only sell to Derek, 'cause Derek's white. This Stanley's some kinda Brotherhood trip, I dunno."  
  
"Stanley be willing to sell to kids?" Shane asked.  
  
Santinito nodded. "Oh sure, I guess. Derek says he's a heavy dude. Gets his stuff from the gangs, weapons they want to lose. He buys 'em cheap, gets a 20 percent markup, sells to anyone who's got cash."  
  
"Where would Derek pick up his merchandise?" Stevie asked.  
  
"I don't really know."  
  
"Don't 'really' know? Well, what do you think? What's your best guess?"  
  
Santinito shrugged nervously. "Well, Derek said something about a closed store a couple of blocks from Stan's Tattoo Shop. An old building Stan owns. I don't know exactly."  
  
Shane nodded. He was satisfied. He had something to give Vic.  
  
Vic answered his cell phone while he and Ronnie were interviewing Stanley.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
It was Shane. He briefed Vic on what Cameron Santinito had told him.  
  
Vic smiled when he broke the connection.  
  
"Well, well," he said. "Seems we've caught up with your little stash," he bluffed. "I've got a team down at your little bargain basement gun store. We'll have enough on you to park your ass somewhere under Chino."  
  
Stanley dropped his eyes.  
  
"So you might as well tell us Stan," Ronnie added. "You sold those guns to Jeff, didn't you?"  
  
"Aw, that damn Webber kid wouldn't know quality from shit," Stanley hissed. "He ain't gonna do nothin' He just talks a lot of trash."  
  
Vic smiled. He'd never told Stanley Jeff's last name.  
  
"Yeah, well he killed another kid with the gun you sold him. That makes you an accessory, on top of being an asshole. Ronnie, get this piece of shit outta my interrogation room."  
Captain Acevedra had to nod his head in approval of what he saw. It had been a righteous arrest, a good confession, and apparently, if what he'd said about the gun store was true, a lot of weapons off the street. It would make a nice headline.  
The kids were thinning out and Dutch was about to make a break for it, find some water, and get out of this place. He'd spotted Claudette, up the hall, waiting for him by the double doors.  
  
Just then, Danny and Julien burst through those doors. They saw Claudette.  
  
"What is it?" she asked, alarmed by the looks on their faces.  
  
"We think the kids are here. They could have gotten back into the school unnoticed."  
  
"They know we're on to them. They're gonna do it early," Claudette surmised. She looked for Dutch.  
The shots rang out loud and clear in the cafeteria, starting a cacophony of noise: screaming, trays falling, glass shattering, more gunfire.  
Dutch heard the shots echoing in the hall. He drew his weapon and headed down the hall.  
  
Danny and Julien were running, heading for the sounds of the shots, weapons ready.  
  
Claudette had pulled her weapon, gone into the office, ordered everyone down and the secretary to call 911 the minute Danny told her about the possibility of the boys being in the school. She was coming out of the office when she heard the shots.  
  
The cafeteria began to empty. Students ran, tripping over each other, falling, crawling, trying to get away from the two boys, fellow students, classmates, who stood in the middle of the cafeteria and opened fire.  
  
Danny, Julien and Dutch fought through the students running from the scene. They were heading toward the scene.  
  
Julien threw open the door, just in time for more students to get out. Dutch and Danny, keeping low, looked inside. It was like a war zone: several kids lay bleeding on the floor, some tried to crawl away; others cowered under tables, behind a salad bar, trying to avoid being hit. Two boys, both wearing camo pants and green tee shirts stood in the center of the huge room, a gun in either hand, shooting anywhere, at anything. Dutch went left; Danny went right; Julien covered them at the door. Claudette arrived beside him. She waited for Danny and Dutch to get far enough into the room to have the boys pinned.  
  
"Drop your weapons!" She yelled, taking partial cover behind the wall, the door now kept open with it's hinges.  
  
One of the boys turned toward her voice. He began to laugh.  
  
"Drop them now!" Dutch commanded, not in position at the far left of the room behind a serving counter.  
  
The boys now looked toward the other voice. They saw they were covered on three sides. There was no way out.  
  
The laughing teen, a blond kid with dirty clothes, charged toward the door then, pointing his weapon at Claudette and Julien's location. Dutch fired. The kid hit the floor.  
  
Danny kept her weapon trained on the other kid. He saw his friend fall. He saw that the cops meant business; He knew they'd kill him too. He slowly dropped his guns.  
"Captain, there's been a shooting at Edward Ortiz Middle School," the desk sergeant informed Acevedra. "Several of ours are already there."  
  
"How bad is it?"  
  
The sergeant shook his head. "Not known at this time."  
  
"Do we have it under control?"  
  
"Apparently sir. One of the gunmen was killed, a second surrendered and is in custody."  
  
Acevedra put on his jacket. "I better get over there."  
Vic and Ronnie met up with Shane outside the old building that Stanley supposedly dealt his weapons out of. Stevie had checked the ownership titles and deeds and found the address, still registered to Stanley Cobb.  
  
They went though the back, not knowing if anyone was inside or not.  
  
They made like there was. It was easier not to get dead that way.  
  
They didn't find anyone at the place, but they did find a couple of boxes full of weapons.  
  
"Bingo," Vic said, taking out a Tek 9. "Well, here's a few more guns that won't end up in some kids' hands."  
Acevedra sorted out the school shooting. None of the wounded students died, but two had been badly hit. The only casualty was Jeff Webber. Peter Riggs had been taken into custody where he told Dutch how Jeff had killed David because David didn't want to go through with the shooting at the school they had originally planned to take place tomorrow.  
  
The Captain gave a speech for the reporters on how well his division had handled the case, how thankful he was there weren't more casualties, and how saddened he was about the way it had turned out for the two boys. He was also able to relate that more guns were off the street thanks to his division's Strike team. He hated saying it, but he knew he had to get his Division out of the gutter before they all went down the drain.  
*********************************************************************** *** "Hate is baggage. Life's too short to be pissed off all the time. We are not enemies but friends; we must not be enemies. Through passion we have strength." American History X *********************************************************************** ***  
Vic, after hearing about the school shooting, went to Cassidy's middle school, where classes were just being let out for the day. He found her waiting in line for her bus.  
  
"Daddy!" she yelled when she spotted him and ran over.  
  
He took her into his arms and held her tightly. He just needed reassurance that his baby was okay, especially after a day like this.  
Dutch, after getting his paperwork done, decided to go to the park. He wasn't one to 'hang out', but he felt a need to get away from people. He had to examine his feelings that he'd felt so deeply back at that middle school. He remembered being the odd kid out. He knew just how close he might have come to ending up like one of those kids who hated everyone and everything and vowed to take revenge on them. Yes, he was glad indeed that he'd taken the right path. He thought about that while he sat on a bench in the park, watching kids play in the nearby playground.  
* * * * *  
When Stevie walked out of her division headquarters into the sunset that melted into the parking lot, Shane was waiting for her, leaning against his truck, parked by her car.  
  
"Hiya," she said.  
  
He crushed out a cigarette under his boot heel. "Hi," Shane returned, noticing how the golden red sun struck her blond hair just right. "I was wondering if we could maybe grab something to eat. Maybe talk about stuff."  
  
Stevie slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think I'm ready for that now."  
  
Shane walked around and opened the passenger door for her and Stevie got in.  
  
He had already decided that pizza and beer was probably out; he drove to a mid priced steak joint instead.  
  
Once they'd ordered dinner and Shane had a beer in front of him, he was feeling more at ease. He realized this was still Stef, the girl he'd grown up with, his friend.  
  
They talked finally; deeply, about their lives, about the turns they had taken and about their current situation. Things went well. Until Shane began to assert himself and his harsh masculine edge began to show through.  
  
"So when are you getting off the street?" he asked her.  
  
She shrugged. "I hadn't really thought about it."  
  
"Well, don't you think you should? I mean, before you don't have a waist to holster your gun on."  
  
Stevie bit her lip. "Well then I'll get a shoulder holster," she said tersely.  
  
"You can't exactly kick in doors and lead high pursuit chases."  
  
Stevie knew all this. She just didn't want to hear it from anyone else. She hadn't gotten that far in processing her own depression over it.  
  
"Look Shane, just shut up now, okay?"  
  
"What?" he gave her that wide eyed 'what did I do?' look.  
  
She put up a hand. "I'm going to the bathroom."  
  
From that point, the evening was quiet. Nothing had been resolved. Stevie was angry; Shane was confused. He dropped her off at her car that way. And again, they went their separate ways. He wasn't sure, but he didn't think people who were going to have a kid together should probably act.  
"Vic, we got Manny to find Stanley's partner," Ronnie told Vic the minute he walked into the Barn early the next morning.  
  
"Manny says the guy has twice as many guns stashed and ready for delivery than Stanley. He's ready t move since his partner got busted. Many says if get going fast, we can catch him and his stash."  
  
Vic had barely had time to take off his leather jacket and then he was putting it back on.  
  
"He's got a place over on Connor," Ronnie was saying. "I got Acevedra on the warrant."  
  
"Damn, you must want a promotion or something," Vic said of his gung-ho team member so early in the day.  
  
"Nah, man, but these damn guns on the street piss me off."  
  
"Okay, we'll move. Where's Shane?"  
  
"I don't know. I've been calling his house and cell. No answer."  
  
"What about Stefanie's?"  
  
"She says she hasn't seen him since last night."  
  
"Shit," Vic said. He was worried. He knew the load Shane was carrying around. "Keep trying. We're not gonna look too hot going in there if there's ten of them and two of us."  
  
"Oh, there'll be more than two," Captain Acevedra put in, coming up to Vic and Ronnie with the search warrant in his hand. "I'm sending two patrol units with you and your 'team', which half of appears to be missing."  
  
"Lem's on leave, you know that."  
  
"And Vendrell?"  
  
"Running late. He'll catch up," Vic covered.  
  
"Fine. Sofer and Lowe and King and Gonzales are going with. Suit up."  
The partner, Jason Deerborn, apparently had holdings at a warehouse off Connor Avenue. He and the rest of his and Stan's left over runners were there, getting ready to move out the inventory.  
  
Vic took the lead. "Ronnie, Lou, take the back. Julien and Mike, cover us. Danny, you're with me. Ready?"  
  
She nodded, her adrenaline rushing. It wasn't every day a patrol cop got to go on a high-end bust with the Strike Team.  
  
Two men were carrying boxes out to a truck, two more were inside.  
  
Vic gave Ronnie and Lou King time to get around back. Damn he was going to kick Shane's ass for not being here. He hated to work with people he wasn't sure of.  
  
"Lets move," Vic said. He and Danny made for the two by the truck.  
  
"Freeze! LAPD!" Vic shouted.  
  
One of them dropped the box he was carrying. The second pulled a weapon from inside the box. He brought it up to fire at the cops.  
  
Vic and Danny opened fire, striking the would be gunner and sending him to the pavement.  
  
Ronnie and Lou moved in from the back, taking the two left in the building by surprise a moment before the gunfire started.  
  
"Hands in the air! LAPD!" Ronnie yelled at the two, taking inventory.  
  
They were cooperative and Ronnie and Lou were able to cuff them, even as the shots rang out from outside. They hit the floor; the cuffed gun dealers rolling to safety.  
  
The brief shooting was over in less than a heartbeat. The remaining gun salesmen were taken off in patrol cars and a wagon came to pick up the body of the one hit by Vic and Danny's fire.  
  
Vic took Danny aside; he could tell she was a little shaken up.  
  
"Hey, you did a good job. You were right on the mark. No one else in my team would have done anything different."  
  
She looked at him. She thought about all they'd been through. She thought about her budding suspicions about Vic and his team. She put it aside again. For now.  
  
"Thanks Vic. I needed that."  
  
He patted her on the shoulder.  
Shane found Stevie in the gym, where he knew he would. She took out her frustrations like his did, working out to punish her body. He spotted her right away, gray hip riding shorts, a black sports bra, her long hair pulled back into a pony tail; she was on the treadmill running. He knew her routine from many times they'd worked out together: she lifted weights to work her upper body, then leg weights, then a 45 minute run or heavy bag.  
  
He walked up to the treadmill. Things had ended badly last night and he didn't want either one of them to go to work before ironing some things out.  
  
"I was lookin' for you."  
  
She didn't break stride. "You found me. Good detective work."  
  
"Hey, should you be.I dunno, still doing all this?"  
  
She shot him a dirty look. "I'm pregnant Shane, not on my deathbed."  
  
"Look, Stevie, I know I've been a prick. I said some stupid shit. But I'm tryin' here. I don't know what to say or do. It's not like I've ever done this before. Give me a chance, huh?"  
  
She slowed to a walk. "This isn't easy for me either."  
  
"I know.I know. I wanna make things right with us, okay? At least try to be like we used to."  
  
"We're gonna have a kid Shane. It's different."  
  
"Okay, so it's different. But you, me, we're still the same people."  
  
She finally stopped. She used a hand towel to blot her face.  
  
"I'm finally going to take your advice. I'm going back home." She got off the treadmill and walked to her bag for a bottle of water.  
  
Shane felt like he'd been hit. Again. All this and now.she was leaving? He followed her to the low bench where she'd sat to rub the glean of perspiration off her neck and shoulders.  
  
"Okay, Stevie, I don't understand. Before I start running at the mouth and end up stepping on my dick again, will you please explain to me what's going on?"  
  
"I've been thinking a lot. This baby is going to change my life. I hadn't really admitted it to myself until last night, when you asked me when I was getting off the job. I can't raise a kid here. This is no place for a child to grow up. I want this child to grow up like we did. I want him to play in the yard without being worried about a drive by. I want to go to work and know I'm coming home at night." She stood and walked to the little alcove where tables were set up. Several people sat after a workout to drink juice or read the paper in the early morning.  
  
Stevie sat down and Shane sat across from her. Damn he needed a cigarette.  
  
"So that's it? We're done? You're not going to give me a chance to be-"  
  
"What? A father? A dad?"  
  
"I don't know, yeah. I mean, it's my kid too. I don't understand Stef. Why?!"  
  
"Cause I don't want to ruin your life Shane!"  
  
Several people looked their way as Stevie raised her voice.  
  
Shane swallowed hard. He took hold of her wrists across the table.  
  
"Please," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "Can you just think about this? Think about what I want too. I honestly want a chance."  
  
She sighed, near tears. But slowly she nodded. "I'll wait. But I am going home. Soon."  
  
"Look, Stevie, no matter what you think, we're in this 50/50. I'm not going to butt in, or try to tell you what to do. But anything you need, I'm there, okay?"  
  
She looked at him. She was trying so hard to get over her own pain, she wasn't sure how much she'd caused him. "We've been friends for a long time. That's why I always liked our fights. We never have to trip over our lips apologizing."  
  
She took his hands as he loosened his grip on her wrists.  
  
"I'm just scared Shane."  
  
"Me too," he admitted. He'd have rather cut his tongue out than admit that to anyone else. "But we'll make it. People do it every day."  
  
"Yeah, I guess they do."  
  
"Look, we're both gonna be late for work. Why don't you come by tonight, I'll fry up that catfish I've been saving."  
  
She managed a smile. "I'd like that."  
Shane made it to work as Vic and Ronnie were returning from the bust.  
  
"Nice of you to make it," Vic said sarcastically.  
  
Shane shrugged. "Sorry. I had something important to do."  
  
"Yeah, well we did too. Our job." Vic strode by him. Shane looked at Ronnie, who shrugged.  
Shane went after Vic and found him in the office, sitting at the table, staring into space.  
  
"Hey, man, look I know I screwed up. I shoulda called. But it's no reason to bust my balls out in the parking lot," Shane told him.  
  
Vic was quiet for a minute, then nodded. "I know. Sorry about that."  
  
"What's up?"  
  
Vic took a crumpled, folded paper from his jacket pocket. He handed it to Shane.  
  
Shane opened it; he recognized a legal document. A restraining order.  
  
"I went to see Cassy yesterday at school. I was just so worried about her, after all that shit yesterday. Corrine found out. She put a goddamn restraining order saying I can't go to my kids' school unless she calls me, give me permission."  
  
Shane sat down. "I'm sorry Vic."  
  
"Slowly, she's taking them away from me Shane."  
  
"Can't your lawyers do something? Can't they stop this?"  
  
Vic shrugged. "Not until after a hearing. Two weeks."  
  
Shane was almost as frustrated as Vic. This was shit that Corrine was doing to him. It wasn't fair. Not after all Vic had done for her.  
  
"I keep thinking about that money train. About the money. About what I could do with all that money," Vic said, almost in a trace like state. "I could get my kids. I could take them so far away. We could live on a beach. A long way from here."  
  
Shane didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't sure if Vic was serious or not.  
  
Vic re-focused. "Then I think why do I deserve that at all? I'm the one who screwed up. It's my own damn fault. Whatever happens Shane, don't ever do the mother of your children as bad as I've done her."  
  
Shane nodded.  
Stevie pulled her Camero into Shane's drive way. He wasn't home yet. That was okay. She'd let herself in, maybe take Bosco for a walk. She bought some beer for Shane, some ice cream for herself, and some lemon for the catfish.  
  
She'd gone inside and poured herself a soda with ice, given Bosco some dog food and turned on the evening news. She was almost happy. She'd come to accept the fact that she was going to have a baby. With or without Shane, she would make that work. She was almost back to herself. Her plans for life might have changed, but things would work out.  
  
She began making a salad to go with dinner. She was cutting up celery when the first cramps hit her.  
By the time Shane got there, he found Stevie on the kitchen floor, doubled over in pain.  
"It's just one of those things," the emergency room doctor explained to Shane. "No one really knows why. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be."  
  
"Is Stevie gonna be okay?"  
  
"She'll be fine. You can take her home in a little while. She can see her regular doctor in a few days for a follow up. They'll be able to tell you when you can try again."  
  
Though the doctor meant well, he certainly hadn't made Shane feel any better about the situation. Stevie had lost the baby. It hurt him to a degree he hadn't expected. He couldn't even explain why. But it hurt.  
.So hold me when I'm here, love me when I'm gone.  
  
.Hold me when I'm scared love me when I'm gone.  
  
.Everything I am and everything u need.  
  
.Causes me to be the one you wanted me to be.  
  
.I'll never let you down even if I could .  
  
.Give up everything if only for your good.  
  
.So hold me when I'm here, love me when I'm wrong.  
  
..Hold me when I'm scared, I won't always be there.  
  
..So love me when I'm gone.  
  
.Love me when I'm gone.  
..love me when I'm gone  
  
..when I'm gone.  
  
.when I'm gone..  
  
*********************************************************************** ******  
Credits to "Live" for the song "Overcome" (Yeah, yeah, I know it was the one used in the #2 season Finale "Dominoes Falling", but its such a good song!) and "Three Doors Down" for "Love Me When I'm Gone". And to the Movie American History X ( a good flick by the way). Thanks to Shawn Ryan, "The Shield" creator for giving us such a great show to work off of. 


End file.
